


reality girl gets drunk | a nocturne

by PaperRevolution



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 16:33:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16836379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperRevolution/pseuds/PaperRevolution
Summary: The Fates offer Eurydice a cup of Lethe, and she needs no encouragement to forget.





	reality girl gets drunk | a nocturne

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for implied sexual abuse, because Hades.

The Fates press a cup of Lethe into her hands and tell her to drink.

In the smoky dimness of the bar, they crowd close around her. She can smell the yellow tang of sweat beneath their perfume. 

Of course, they all wear the same perfume, musky and so strong she thinks she can taste it at the back of her throat.

“It will help,” says Atropos, her voice low and insistent. When she leans in close, the ends of her myriad long braids tickle Eurydice’s arms.

Eurydice narrows her eyes at them. 

“How?” Her voice is flat.

They laugh, almost in unison. It would be eerie if she had the energy to be unnerved by it right now.

“It will help you to forget,” says Clotho, and they all laugh again.

After that, it turns out, Eurydice does not need much persuading.

*

She drinks until the world falls out from under her. 

The feeling of wrongness is still sitting like a hollow ball in the pit of her stomach.

*

Persephone intercepts the Fates before they reach Hades’ office. There’s a girl with them; a scrap of a thing with mussed hair and torn clothes. The grime of the factory is on her face.

Her eyes flicker lazily half open, then shut again. Her head lolls against Lachesis’ shoulder.

Three things occur to Persephone in very quick succession.

One: the girl is very, very drunk. The kind of drunk that robs your speech and turns your bones to water.

Two: she’s familiar. The singer’s girl.

Three: the Fates are bringing her to Hades. Drunk. At night. 

They’ll have their own reasons for serving her up like a bloody offering, Persephone knows, but just now she doesn’t give a fuck about their reasons.

“What is this?”

Her voice emerges in a low growl. The Fates look at one another. They aren’t fazed.

“Mr. Hades sent for her,” says Clotho. Her voice is high and hoarse and it grates right on Persephone’s nerves.

Persephone forces herself to let out a long, slow breath.

“I can take this from here,” she says, and smiles. It’s a particular talent of hers: smiling even when she feels sick to her stomach.

*

When Eurydice wakes, the boss man’s wife is watching her.

“You,” the other woman says, her voice rough with some emotion she can’t identify, “are an idiot.”

Eurydice squeezes her eyes tight shut. When she tries to speak, she manages only a thin, wordless whimper.

“I can’t help you like this again,” says the Lady of the Underground in the same strange, fraught voice. “You need to watch yourself.”

The words, when they come, are scratchy and indistinct.

“They told me it would help me forget.”

“Forget what, exactly? Him? Orpheus?”

The words stick in Eurydice’s throat like tiny broken twigs:

“No,” she says. “Hades.”


End file.
